Touch of Metal
by Laura JN
Summary: The Winter Soldier now wants to find himself, and he soon discovers that the only person who can help him do that, the only person who remembers the real him, is Steve Rogers.
1. Prologue: Who

**Who**

The museum was packed with families and groups of teens, all gawping and gazing through the glass cases and staring up in wonder at the old war uniforms on the gray mannequins. The red, white and blue of the flag was emblazoned upon the walls and information boards, and cinematic music played softly through the rooms. The Winter Soldier wandered through the building feeling a strange sense of nostalgia, even though there was nothing he could recognise. He even found a section about this 'Bucky Barnes' that his target had mentioned. There was a blown up photograph of himself, but even that did not strike a chord with him. It was not until he reached the last room that he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye.

In the middle of the room were a selection of artifacts from the second world war. Among them was a blue, button-up jacket. The soldier approached slowly, drawn to the item of clothing. The old outfit was worn, but retained much of it's colour. His eyes glazed over, and he somehow longed to touch the fabric. Would this help him regain some long forgotten memory? The item was out of reach, and he wanted to remain inconspicuous, so with a sigh, he left. Something tore at him to turn back, but there was nothing he could do.

Where do you go when you've left everything you know behind? The assassin left the museum feeling even more empty than he had before he walked in there. Only one thing remained inside of him, and that was the desire to discover who he was. Not who he used to be, but who he would be. Glimpses of his past might help, he thought, but very little of that museum had felt real. Reality for him was a blur; all except for that man. Steve Rogers was the first memory he had allowed himself to keep. He refused to let them take anything more from him. The physical pain he endured when his memories were taken, that was one thing, but Steve was an anchor. Steve could be his chance at stabilizing, and would quite possibly want to help him achieve that.

The soldier was not ready for another encounter with Steve just yet, but he knew he would have to talk to him eventually. Searching for answers on his own was important, but couldn't last forever. Finding people was a piece of cake for an assassin like the Winter Soldier, but finding himself…

...that could prove to be a challenge.


	2. How

**How**

Raindrops hit the window pane, and dripped down the glass, but Steve Rogers was not looking at that. Jazz music filled his ears, lulling him deep into his own mind. He was in 1945, flying that plane into the ice, and Peggy was telling him not to be late for their dance. All that he could think about as he went down with the plane, was how he had not been able to save Bucky. Over and over again he watched him fall from that train. A nearby 'clink' of glasses snapped his attention back to the present. His memories of that day were recent, and not blurred at all, yet it seemed distant from him now. His perception of time had been warped in his sleep.

Steve sat in a classic American diner, while the rain poured down outside. He thought of how he had woken up on the river bank several weeks ago, disorientated, but very aware that he should have drowned. Someone had pulled him out of the water in time, and the only person who had seen him fall… Steve shook his head. He could not know that for sure.

Cap glanced around the diner to see if anyone was watching him. He had been trying to keep a low profile, but it was easier said than done in a family restaurant: Kids notice _everything_. Fortunately, it was getting late, and most families were heading home, so it was mostly couples left sitting in the diner now. As his gaze swept over the room, Steve spotted a male figure on the far side of the diner. He had his head down, and was reading the paper. Steve was not one to be paranoid, but in his eyes, that was the most obvious and overused method of covering up a bad disguise in history, coincidentally also making it the best double bluff in history. Steve looked back out of the window, but kept the figure in his peripheral vision. He tried to catch more glimpses, to see if the figure was really looking at their paper. They were not. Time to move.

Steve nodded at a passing waitress, and put down a twenty on the table. He moved to stand, but someone was standing in front of him. Steve froze. Bucky was dressed in civilian clothing, a baseball cap on his head, casting shadows over his face. He was holding a copy of the New York Times.

The Winter Soldier sat down in the chair opposite. It was several seconds before Steve could move. When he did, he slowly sat down again, suddenly filled with adrenaline. He knew to be cautious, but somehow he did not think that Bucky was here to fight - not in that outfit.

There was a moment of silence, as Steve sat there, wondering who would speak first. He hoped that Bucky would, but the assassin seemed content in the absence of words,

"Can I get you a drink?" Steve tried, laughing weakly,

"Water." The soldier responded. Well that was abrupt,

"Sparkling or still?" Steve tried again, hoping his dry humour would get through,

"Either."

"Did you pull me out of the river?" An alternative tactic, met with silence. "I guess you're not here to kill me at least."

"No. I'm not here to kill anyone." The soldier faltered, "I'm not killing anyone without a reason… I don't know who I am."

"You're James Barnes." Steve smiled, "My friend." The soldier did not move, but something flashed in his eyes.

"I want to know... Tell me what happened. I want your version." Bucky's eyes were dark. What had they done to him? Steve asked the waitress to fetch some water, before turning back to face him,

"Lets go somewhere more private." Steve suggested. Bucky downed the glass of water,

"You lead."

* * *

James followed Steve to his new apartment, wondering how secure the place was, not that it mattered. They were both more than enough to take down any potential threats. Steve sat down on his sofa, and gestured for the soldier to join him. James stared at it for a moment. He had no memories of sitting down on something so soft before, and thought that it might feel strange to him. He found it hard to sit upright on the cushions, so he mirrored Steve's pose, sitting further back into the sofa, and putting his feet up. It felt as alien as he had expected, except that it was so welcoming that he barely noticed. Steve was watching him closely, he knew, making him very aware of how he was probably behaving in a way that seemed odd. It was hard to be natural when you had no experience of what that meant, and it was hard for James to be himself, when he had no idea how.

"You were a sergeant in the US military," Steve began, but paused, giving James a moment to absorb this information. He had found out that much in the museum though. "Before I became Captain America, before I became a super soldier, I was weak. You would always stick up for me, and get me out of fights. I looked up to you." Steve paused again, "You were also a ladies man."

"A what?" That last phrase surprised him more than the rest of what Steve had said. He had not expected to find out that he had been the sociable type. Had the memory loss taken away his personality too?

"You loved fun and dancing, showing the women a good time." Steve smiled, "I never could. I was the little guy they might step on by accident."

"...And after the serum?" James was having difficulty picturing the man in front of him with a smaller stature than the average woman in heels.

"I'd been doing shows. Raising money for ammunition. I hadn't been out on the front lines yet like I wanted to, that is until I heard you'd been killed in action… I couldn't stand still. I had to go rescue your platoon from Hydra. I went alone, and what I found when I got there were a whole bunch of prisoners of war. You were alive, lying down strapped to machine bed." Steve paused a while longer, shaking a little. James was not sure why,

"What then? "he wanted to know how he had become like this, and lost so much,

"We were trying to get out of the building, but things were exploding. The Red Skull had set it to blow. We bumped into him on the way out, but he got away… We were running out of time, so I told you to climb to safety first. The walkway broke, so I told you to leave… You refused. You wouldn't leave without me. In the end I made it, most of us did. We got a whole load of guys back to base, along with some of Hydra's weapons. After that we fought together a lot… the two of us, and a few other guys from that day. We were out on the front lines…" Steve sucked in a breath. His hands were visibly clenching on the sofa, and he looked like he was struggling to continue, "Then we raided a train full of hydra agents. There was a long drop from the train. One that nobody could survive" Steve looked up at him, and their eyes locked, "You fell… I couldn't see you, the valley was so far down. I thought you died there." A tear rolled down his cheek, then another.

James sat there, motionless. He was looking into the eyes of a man who was so upset by the thought of losing him, that it still caused him to lose control after all this time. Steve opened his slightly quivering mouth, "I still can't believe you're here in front of me… Did you pull me out of the water?"

"Yes." James moved closer, leaning forward, and tucking his legs to the side. He had been trained to use his instincts, hour upon horrific hour of training, until he was a cold, killing machine. Yet in that moment, he felt warmth for the first time, and had no reason to stick to his training. He wrapped his arms around Steve, and let his head rest on the other man's shoulder. He wanted to comfort the other man, and his instincts told him that this was the best way to do so. He felt nothing in his metal arm, but the rest of him felt Steve react, suddenly reaching around him, and holding him there firmly. It was nothing like the holds used in martial arts, or the grapple in the middle of a brawl. This was… pleasant, for James too. He had not expected that.

In that moment, James caught a glimpse of something. A memory?

_He was in a large, crowded room, and was vaguely aware of some women who were waiting for him, but Steve was standing in front of him. He knew Steve wanted to enlist for the army, but they were just never going to accept him as he was. James longed for him to be happy, but he was scared of what might happen if Steve ever did get into the army. He was skinny, weak, and could barely take on a regular bully. James couldn't bare it if Steve was hurt, if he was exposed to the true horrors of war. He teased Steve, before pulling him into a tight hug._

James let go of Steve, letting his arms fall. He raised his hand to grip Steve's jaw, and turned his face from side to side, eyeing his features. He felt the corners of his mouth rise into an expression he had not made in many years,

"You really were shorter."


	3. Why

**Why**

Steve wondered for a fleeting moment, if Bucky had regained all of his memories, but the soldier's smile faded after a moment,

"I regained a memory… it was just a glimpse into the past, but it told me quite a bit." James looked up at Steve. He could not yet remember their friendship, but that piece of memory told him that Steve had been telling the truth.

"But thats great! Maybe you'll remember more if you stay around me?" Cap looked hopeful, though another tear fell after the first,

"Its possible. I've been living with no memory of my past for so long now… its been decades, but I've only spent about two years of that awake. I'm worried I'm past recovering much of it." There was no fear in James's eyes, though he wanted those memories back more than ever now.

"I wonder if the fall caused your amnesia… Bucky I'm so sorry. If I'd gone back to look for you… If I'd checked." Steve's fists clenched nervously. He looked away, and stood up.

"If the drop was as high as you say it was, and I'd only had basic military training… well it sounds normal to assume I was dead." James observed,

"You don't understand Buck. When your best friend dies… you don't just give up like that. I didn't the first time, so why did I then? Was it because I'd found solace in my work by that point? I don't even know why I didn't go back to that valley, and its disarming. I should have, no excuses. I didn't see you hit the bottom." _Some hero I am. I can't even save my best friend._ Those words had spun around his head for over a year now.

"Steve?" Cap looked back down at the assassin. It was the first time he had called him by his name, "I have… some experience of war. You can't just stop, I know that much. People die all the time on the battlefield." Steve remained silent for a long time, fists shaking again,

"When I first saw you without that mask… and I recognised you… I couldn't move. I was surrounded by S.H.I.E.L.D agents, but I just couldn't fight. For such a long time, I thought I was alone… I realised that whatever Zola did to you must have helped you survive the fall. Hydra saved you where I couldn't." Steve rammed his fist into the wall. James tried to interrupt, but Steve continued,

"You met my friend Natasha. She'd keep suggesting all these girls to me, in hope that I'd go on dates and start living a normal life. I just didn't have it in me. I kept telling her I was busy, or uninterested, but really I just haven't felt like I deserve to take time off. I know a lot of people died in the war, but you…" Steve couldn't continue talking. Tears were streaming down his face now, and he was trying to blink them away. James stood up from the sofa,

"I'm here now, Steve. I'm alive now aren't I? I may not be altogether, but I'm definitely here." He placed has hands on either side of Steve's face, "I need you to keep it together until I know who I am. You're all I've got." James breathed. The anger slowly faded from Steve's features, leaving his emotions bare. He spoke softly,

"I was starting to look for you… It looks like you found me first." Steve smiled. James wiped away Steve's tears with his thumbs,

"Maybe we can help each other. Help me get my memories back, and I'll fight alongside you." Steve did not know what to say,

"Buck… I'd like that but… you've fought enough. You don't have to kill people anymore." He looked concerned,

"Who said anything about killing?" Bucky smiled, taking a step back again, "When you fight, you don't aim to kill right? So I won't either."

"I'm fighting for freedom, and that means taking out the bullies. There are a lot of Hydra agents still out there…"

"Then we capture them." There was a spark of amusement in Bucky's eyes.

James began to look around the room more, taking in the place that Steve had been living in since S.H.I.E.L.D collapsed. The room was minimalistic, open-plan, and filled with light refracting through the windows, casting shadows of the falling rain on the floor. Cap's shield was propped up against the wall beside a bookcase, and on the other side of that was a door leading to his bedroom, "What is sleep like?" Bucky asked, "I've been unconscious a lot, but I don't remember sleep. Is there a difference?"

"Sleep is something you do to regain energy. Being unconscious is usually because you were knocked out or drugged. I prefer the voluntary version." Steve dried his eyes, and walked into his bedroom, "Plus if you're lucky, you might have a dream."

"A hallucination?"

"You could put it that way, but it's different somehow... The only thing you're seeing is your own imagination. Its a way of getting to know yourself I guess."

"I want to go to sleep." James followed Steve into the bedroom. The bed looked warm and inviting, with a cream covered duvet and soft pillows. Light poured in from the streetlamps outside, setting the otherwise dark room in a warm golden glow. The rain seemed distant in here, with only the faint sound of droplets hitting the windowpane. _Safe_ "Could I stay here?"

"Of course! How could I turn you away?" Steve thought it an odd question. He watched James for a moment, trying to read his expression. His mouth was an even line, with his gaze set on the pillows. Then Steve realised he meant this bed specifically. He wanted the proper experience of sleeping by choice, and not exhaustion. He felt his cheeks heat up at the thought of sharing his bed, but wasn't sure why. Bucky was his best friend. "I'll lend you some clothes too. You want to take a shower?" James nodded, so Steve found a clean towel and trousers for him to wear, while he tried to cool down his thoughts.

James stepped into the bathroom, pulling off the hooded jacket and shirt he was wearing. He noticed a mirror on the wall, and took a look at himself for the first time in a while. He needed to shave, and he needed a haircut: Hydra would recognise him as he was. He found some shaving cream in a cabinet above the sink, and a razor next to it. The haircut could come later.

After a short time James emerged from the shower soaking wet, clean and shaven. The warm water droplets clung to his skin like jewels, and rolled slowly down his muscular arms and legs. The metal of his left arm glinted beneath the water. He used the towel to dry his hair, and wrapped it around himself. He wondered what Steve was doing while he had been in the bathroom. After quickly drying himself, he pulled on the trousers and left the room, slinging the towel around his neck so his hair did not drip onto the floor.

Steve was not in the bedroom, so James padded across the carpet, into the front room. Steve was standing in the kitchen area by the stove. James strolled over to him, to see what he was doing. There was a saucepan with a lid covering the boiling liquid inside, and a frying pan containing something that smelt of herbs.

"The Captain cooks too." James commented,

"He sure does." Steve winked at him, "Take a seat at the table. I'm almost done." He gestured toward the round dining table by the window. James walked over there and sat down, allowing himself to relax a little with his feet set apart. He noticed that placemats and cutlery had already been laid out, with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"I don't remember home cooking either." James looked hopeful,

"Don't worry, there's plenty for both of us. I learned to cook when I started working for S.H.I.E.L.D. I thought about hiring a maid, but that seemed lazy. We learned the basics in the army, but nothing extravagant." A minute later, Steve served up the food, and brought both plates over to the table,

"Bolognaise?" James asked. He did not know much about italian cuisine,

"Bolognaise." Steve nodded, grating some parmesan onto the food, before taking the seat opposite. James watched Steve show him how to wind he spaghetti onto his fork, then copied him. The freshly cooked pasta was amazing to his taste buds. They ate in relative silence, with the passing remark from Steve on how he could have done better, and James reassuring him that it tasted fine. It would have looked like an awkward conversation to some, but it was the most James had said in a long time, and he felt at ease around Steve.

_Invading a nazi outpost_

_Lying in wait, positioned to snipe_

_Shooting a hydra agent_

_Falling_

_Falling_

James blinked rapidly, suddenly awash with fragments of his past. What had triggered that? Was it simply that he had been out of cryogenic sleep for several days now, or something else? The memories shook him, causing him to drop his fork. It clattered onto the plate, drawing Steve's attention,

"Bucky? What's up?"

"I…" He wasn't sure how to respond. Did he want Steve knowing that his memories were coming back in such unclear pieces? He did not want to ruin things with such a depressing subject, but he wanted to be honest with Steve, "I remember the fall. The momentum, and the cold air. I don't remember what I'd been standing on, or hitting the ground."

Steve remained quiet for a while, probably contemplating what this might mean. Would his memories keep coming back to him like this? In small moments?

"I think its all going to come back to you, Buck. I hope you're ready for that. When I knew you, you had a lot to be proud of, but the things Hydra have made you do since…"

"I can live with it for now. _After_ I'm not so sure, but it doesn't seem like I have much choice here."

* * *

Once the two men finished eating, they washed up the dishes. Steve showed James which items went in which cupboards and drawers, so he dried and put away the plates as Steve washed. It was the most domestic Steve had seen Bucky since they were children.

The two would always play together as kids, and Steve would come over his friend's house, so they could build a fort out of cushions. Bucky had always looked out for him, and that had been his way of helping Steve escape. Their parents had died young, and few people understood what that was like. Spending time with Bucky had saved Steve in his youth, and it was still saving him now.

Steve thought about sleeping on the sofa, but he knew that would be weird, so when he needed to sleep, he unbuttoned his shirt, and draped it over a chair, before climbing into his bed on one side, and leaving a lot of space on the other. Steve had never shared a bed before. Not once. The thought was making him feel something strange in his chest and stomach, but he tried to ignore it. James on the other hand seemed completely at ease with the idea, and climbed into the other side of the bed without hesitation, twisting around a little until he was comfortable.

Steve took a while to fall asleep, and woke several times during the night. The first was because he had rolled onto his front, and couldn't continue rolling in that direction without crashing into James. He could hear the assassin's deep, even breathing, and the sound soon lulled him back to sleep. The second time was because he _had_ crashed into James, and woken them both up.

"Sorry" He muttered, "I'm not spatially aware in my sleep."

"I can see that." James responded, as Steve tried to roll back the other way. Sleep took over again before he made it very far though. He woke the next morning to find a cool, metallic arm draped around his waist, with his own hand pressed up against Bucky's chest, and his head nestled against the soldier's neck.


	4. When

**When**

Steve felt a wave of heat wash over his features. How had he ended up in this position? Had he rolled into James again? He had a few options open to him: He could try to free himself and pretend it never happened, or stay like that and hope that James thought nothing of it. The metal arm was heavy though, and an assassin's senses were well trained. He couldn't be sure that James wouldn't wake if he moved, so he stayed like that for a while, as his heart beat faster, and he started to become more aware of James by the second. He could feel warm breath skim over his hair, teasing at his forehead. Steve wanted the ground to swallow him up. He had never been in such a compromising position before, _and with Bucky_?

James yawned, startling Steve, and slowly blinked open his eyes. He looked disoriented for a moment, but Steve could not see his face, as he had chosen the 'pretend to be asleep' option. He could feel James move slightly, finally lifting his arm a little, reducing the weight. A moment later, James rolled over onto his back. _Phew._ Then he pulled Steve with him. _Wait what?_

Steve had let himself go limp in his attempt to pretend he was asleep, so when James rolled him over, he found himself half on top of the soldier. His hand was now further down James's muscular chest, and his head rested under James's chin now. He felt a human arm around his waist this time, and could hear James returning to sleep. Steve was neither uncomfortable nor particularly wakeful, but he did not know how to behave in this situation. Intimacy was foreign to him, so he lay there in James's arms for a while longer, before finally deciding he should get up.

Steve carefully wrapped his hand around the assassin's wrist, then gently lifted his arm, and placed it to the side. He exhaled, pulled the duvet to the side, then tried to sit up. A strong hand gingerly grabbed his shoulder,

"I was enjoying that. Do you have to be somewhere?" James chuckled as Steve turned to face him, "You should see the look on your face. It's comfortable, and you make a great cushion." Steve's jaw dropped, and he picked up a pillow, hitting his friend with it, "Something I said?" James picked up the other pillow, and whacked it straight into Steve's face,

"Seriously? We're having a pillow fight?" Steve was struggling not to laugh. This was so childish, and Steve was fairly certain his face was still red, but he was distracted by the second pillow assault coming from his left,

"Pillow fights make for excellent training. You never know when or where an enemy might strike." James teased. Had He been sleeping with girls while he was the winter soldier? Steve knew that times had changed, but James had seen so cold as an assassin. Not the kind of guy he thought girls would want to hop into bed with. But here he was, only a day after they'd started talking, and they were playing around like teenagers.

There was something surreal about seeing something so fluffy and soft in James's metal hand. Steve drove his pillow into James's chest as if it were his shield, and he fell over backward against the headboard, feigning defeat in battle.

"Too bad, Buck. You almost had me." Steve smiled, taking heavy, fast breaths.

"I shall be avenged." James's replied, breathing just as fast. "The Black Widow will come for you in the night." He grinned,

"Haha, yeah Natasha would certainly have me cornered." Steve put his pillow back in it's place,

"Natasha…" James repeated, trailing off. "She was with you on the bridge. How do you know her?"

"Huh? We worked together for S.H.I.E.L.D, up until we realised it was compromised that is… I remember her telling me something about you… It had something to do with bikinis."

"I shot her. She wasn't too happy about it. Kinda ruined our date. Long story." Steve's eyes widened,

"_That _was your cover?"

"Oh no, she knew I was the Winter Soldier, she just didn't know I'd been hired to assassinate the nuclear engineer she was escorting."

"Wait… You were already going out before that?" Steve's felt his grasp of the situation slipping,

"You could say that. It was five years ago now, so my memory is a little hazy on the subject. I've been wiped over a dozen times since then, so I'm not exactly a reliable authority on this." James propped up his pillow behind him,

"I'd ask Natasha, but I doubt she wants to reminisce about the good old days." Steve was having a hard time coming to grips with this. _Natasha and Bucky?_ Images of the two of them entangled and naked came rushing into his mind. He lost control of his thoughts for a moment, and he could not understand why the image felt so wrong to him. Some people did anything to ensure the success of a mission, but there are some things that Steve would never do. He was not sure how he felt about the idea of James betraying Natasha either. It was in the past now, but he had only just learned of these events.

"Don't think too hard on it?" James's eyes were pleading. When did he learn to tease again? He seemed to have recovered something in his sleep.

"Did you remember anything new over night?" Steve asked after a while.

"Yeah. Cushion forts."

* * *

The Winter Soldier crouched behind a metal crate with one knee on the ground, loading his pistol. This was a covert operation, so he only brought the small guns with silencers. He had his back to the crate, and held his gun ready, as he leaned around slowly to see if anyone was coming. They were: Three women and two men in dark suits were walking across the rain-spattered car park, each carrying a variety of weapons. _Hydra agents._

Steve had spent the day in contact with Sam Wilson, tracking down potential Hydra agents, then confirming each one based on their activities since the S.H.I.E.L.D meltdown. The results of his efforts had been locating three of the suspects. Now that James saw them walking together and heavily armed, that was all he needed to know. He raised his free hand and gave Steve the signal that they were targets. He did not need to know whether Steve had seen or not, because he could take them down on his own if necessary. Steve was more equipped for non-lethal damage, but that did not mean that James did not know how to shoot to disarm.

The assassin gripped his gun tightly, and stood up. His first shot hit with no problems, straight into the wrist of one man. The second shot was a less easy task, as they were now alerted to his position. He walked to the left, aiming mainly at their feet, and instantly crippled the other man, and one of the women. He dodged to the side, as the two women still standing had their assault rifles in hand now, and had begun firing back at him. Not the easiest of firearms to dodge, but their aim was nowhere near good enough to hit _him._

He rolled across the wet tarmac, then shot at the women's wrists. They moved too quickly, one dodging, and the other getting hit in the side. That would leave a mark. He rolled forward, onto his feet, and shot again at the woman, this time succeeding, as a bullet went straight into her shin. She fell hard, hitting her head, and losing consciousness. The man with his wrist out for the count was now attempting to shoot with his uninjured hand. He was clearly not ambidextrous. James took out his knee cap, causing the man to let out a wail, and collapse. His injured knee impacted with the ground, causing him to cry out again, and buckle over with pain. Four down, one to go.

The remaining woman was uninjured, moving fast, and on full alert now. This was where he had to be more careful. She'd had level six S.H.I.E.L.D access, and was very much a field agent with full combat training. She dodged his bullets easier than the others had, and was getting closer by the second. That meant she wanted a fist fight. _She'll try to disarm me, then go in for a grapple._ James predicted her every move, and finally shot her in the shoulder. He thought she would double over like the others, but she barely flinched. She kept closing in on him, and taken aback by her sudden recovery, he had let his guard slip for half a second. Unfortunately that half second was all it took for her to gain the upper hand, swinging her leg around and kicking him in the side.

James held his ground, but he had to keep moving. This woman was fast, and he could not shoot her at short range. He darted to the right, shoving his gun back in his belt, and pulling out a knife, and lunging at her arm. She moved just in time, blocking his forearm with hers, and punched him in the gut with her free arm. She was strong, but he was wearing his armour, and though he was knocked back a little, he maintained his balance. That was when she pulled out a knife of her own. He saw it coming, and dodged, but she scraped the side of his jaw. The sting was distracting, so he took a step back, and tried to trip her over. She came lunging toward him again with her knife, so he ducked, and lunged toward her hip, cutting a deep wound that he could feel tearing through her muscle. She screamed as blood poured out of her side, feeling the knife slice through her hip, and leapt away from him, lashing out with her knife as she moved. The wild slashing caught his right forearm, and left a gash there, causing blood to well up. It was nothing compared with the spray of red that was still coming from her hip. She clutched at it with her hand, trying to slow the bleeding, but failing miserably,

"You need first aid. Surrender and I'll patch you up." James offered. She laughed raggedly,

"You must be joking? Hydra do not give in." She hissed at him. He took that moment to charge forwards, snatching the knife from her hand, and casting it aside. He rammed her into one of the taller crates, covering her body with his, and leaning over her. It was an intimidation play,

"I want names." James tore into her with a look. His gaze was piercing, and she let out a nervous giggle, before biting down on something in her mouth. _Damn._ She started to make a gurgling sound, as her mouth throthed up, and she collapsed to the floor, dead.

James let go of her, and turned around to find Steve putting handcuffs on the other agents,

"Oh great, let the assassin do _his thing_ while Captain America just arrests people." James teased him.

"Har har. I had a fight of my own, Buck." Steve pointed to a cut on his shoulder. "There were more of them up by where I was standing. I saw your signal just as they spotted me. You seemed to have it covered down here, so I took care of them first."

"Oh don't mind the _assassin_. He'll be fine." James laughed, "And I suppose by 'took care of' you mean knocked out with your bare fists and handcuffed?"

"Most of 'em yeah. One got away. I'm still riled up about that." Steve looked concerned,

"Bucky one, Cap zero." James slapped him on the back. Steve winced, "It's okay, we'll find them with the next lot. We're just getting started."

"I know. I just wish you hadn't got that one up on me. I thought you said the Black Widow would take me out." Steve smiled at last.

_Flirting with women at the barracks_

_Dancing with pretty girls_

_Watching Steve walk away_

_Seeing the photo in Steve's pocket watch_

* * *

After calling the police, the two men waited around in the shadows as the officials moved onto the scene. Steve had left a note stating that these were Hydra agents, signed 'Captain America'. Seeing that they had the situation under control, Steve and James left to head back to the apartment.

When they returned home, Steve noticed the deep cut in Bucky's forearm. The bloodstains barely showed up on his black combat gear, so Steve insisted that he took a look at the wound. He went to fetch a first aid kit from the bathroom cabinet, while Bucky undid all the straps, and pulled off the kevlar vest. After removing several layers of clothing from the upper half of his body, he could finally see the cut properly. It was deeper than he had realised,

"Woops." James commented,

"You'll need to soak that before I can bandage you up, Buck. It looks pretty bad." James nodded, heading for the sink. He washed off the blood that had made its way down his arm, trying not to agitate the wound, before returning to find that Steve had pulled up two chairs, and sat down on one of them. James took the seat opposite. He usually patched himself up with a needle and thread, but he wouldn't say no to something more comfortable.

Steve took the bandages out of the first aid kit, as James held out his arm. Steve gripped James's wrist, holding it steady with one hand, while using the other to start wrapping the bandage around the cut. James helped to hold it in place, until Steve had wrapped it around enough times. He cut the bandage with a pair of scissors, then tied off the ends. That was when he realised how close they were to each other.

Steve was struggling to understand why he was becoming so aware of James's presence, and why his closeness affected him like this. Was it because of how he had woken up that morning? The memory brought back the red tint to his cheeks, and he noticed that the soldier was looking up at him. His eyes were like hot liquid, casting a gold shimmer amongst the blue pools of his irises,

"Something wrong, Steve?"

"Uhh… I uh… can't remember the last time I did this." Steve gestured to the bandage,

"You're still holding my wrist." James pointed out offhandedly, "If anything I'd say you didn't want to let go." Steve flustered at that last remark. Feeling his face turn an even deeper shade of scarlet. He let go of James's wrist, but he was not going to let things slide that easily. James caught Steve's face in his hands, and kissed him.

"Wha- Bucky?" Steve breathed. He froze, but James was pulling him closer. He kissed him again, pressing their mouths together, Steve felt James' warm breath on his skin, and found himself losing control. He closed his eyes as James took his lips in his, teasing them open. Steve snapped. He wrapped his arms around James's back, standing up, pulling James with him, and began kissing him back. He gripped him by the jaw, and pressed his lips down James's warm neck, moving down, and taking his skin between his teeth. James moaned _loudly._


	5. What

**What**

There was nothing chaste about that kiss. As soon as their lips had touched, something wild had broken out of it's cage in James's mind.

Moonlight spilled through the windows around the soldiers as they kissed. Steve was cast in silhouette, though the light gave him a soft haloed look. James was lost in him, his fingers clawing at Steve's back. Steve tasted metal, salt and something sweet on James's skin. He was walking them both across the room, toward the back wall, but James spun them around, and pressed his body against Steve's. He cornered him between his arms, backing Steve into the wall. James held him there, with his metal hand on Steve's shoulder, and his hips rolling his whole body against the soldier's muscles. His other hand hovered around Steve's hips, before ducking under the fabric of his shirt.

Steve could feel James's hands on his skin, as their mouths hungrily explored one another. That was when Steve felt a something niggling at the back of his mind. He had never considered having romantic feelings for a man before, but that was not what was bothering him. He was feeling all kinds of sensations that were new to him, and it slowly dawned on him that he knew next to nothing of these things. He had been the good little Christian boy who never got to ask about what happens after kissing. He knew the general idea, but none of the specifics, and had no idea what to do with a man. He gulped, and could feel his heart beating faster in his chest.

James leaned forward, pulling Steve against him harder, rocking their bodies together and making Steve feel all his muscles harden,

"There's no need to be confused," James breathed into Steve's ear. He felt the hot air caress sensitive skin around his ear as James growled mischievously, "This will be good for both of us." He flicked his tongue over Steve's ear, then dipped inside it. Steve moaned, and fisted his hands into James' hair,

"Buck-" Steve gasped. James had grasped his crotch, his hand stroking Steve over the fabric of his trousers. Some far away part of Steve's brain was telling him that this was immoral, but he knew it was the old fashioned part of him talking. Many things had changed while he had been in the ice, and though some people still shunned these acts, he did not want to be one of them. The idea of judging people for their sexuality horrified him more than the shock of what was happening, and made him more determined to keep going. Whatever his brain might say, it did not _feel _wrong. There was no denying that he wanted this.

James was stroking him faster, and wore an impish grin. He was pressing slow, light kisses to Steve's cheek bones as he shuddered against him. James's eyes were burning, golden specks of flame in his azure irises. Steve could feel his body heating up all over, and his breathing growing heavier. Then James was unbuckling his belt,

"_Vy budet moim._" James spoke low and huskily in what Steve recognised as Russian. He had no idea what it meant, but it made his hands move further down James's bare chest, then down to his buttocks. He felt the firm, hard muscle there, and squeezed. James's grin returned, and he took Steve's lips in a deep, breathtaking kiss; all heat, and male and _James_.

The assassin placed his lips ever so lightly on Steve's closed eyes, taking in the sight of him under his touch. Steve had screwed his eyes tightly shut, causing little creases to appear around them. James kissed them away, until Steve's eyes opened, and James was able to see his emotions laid bare. He paused, drinking in all the uncertainty and confusion in Steve's eyes. He would rid him of it, and keep going until Steve's eyes reflected the same desire and longing that he felt. He would become an anchor for Steve too.

James undid the zip on Steve's trousers, before using his thumbs to pull them down slowly, dragging Steve's underwear with them. Steve did not move to stop him, and he showed no sign of surprise, but he was clearly very conscious of the fact that nobody had seen his naked adult body before. He stepped out of his trousers and briefs, before kicking them to the side. James immediately returned to kissing him, working his way down Steve's body, from his jaw to this collarbone, and then his pectorals. His hands moved gently over Steve's hips, lightly stroking them, as Steve looked up at him. James was the shorter man by several inches, but Steve's eyes had been lowered until now. They were big, sky blue orbs that reminded James of a labrador puppy. They made his heart ache.

"Bucky?" Steve suddenly spoke up. James did not like the tone in his voice, "I… I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I think… I know I want this. I want you, but I need you to remember me. You've got bits and pieces of memories back, but who am I to you right now?" James felt a stab of anger course through him, but he quickly shut it down. He tried to think about it from Steve's perspective, but found that he did not understand,

"What does it matter? We both want this. My memories won't come back just like that. You know that. They come back piece by tiny piece. Are you asking me to wait until they're all back? That could take _years_." He tried to hide the fear in his words: The fear that Steve would reject him. It was an old fear, and he did not know where it had come from, but he knew in that moment that it had been with him for a very long time. Waiting longer felt like a far worse thing than it would to someone who had only known Steve for a few days.

_Your body remembers._

_Train your body and you train your mind._

Flashes of memory returned to him from his early days in Russia: After he had amnesia, and before he had become the Winter Soldier. Back when he had been no one at all. He had no memory of grabbing his arm, but as he refocused on the present, he realised that he must have clasped his metal forearm subconsciously. In the memories he had just seen, he had only had one arm, poorly bandaged and soaked through with blood.

Steve placed a hand on James's shoulder. He brushed him off, smacking away his hand, and taking a step back. The memory of being no one: The very idea of losing who he was so very completely, had shaken him to the core. Even as the Winter Soldier he had at least had an identity, but in those first few days…

Steve gripped him again: Harder this time, and shook him a bit,

"Bucky. Buck, look at me. _Look at me_." Steve shook him until he made eye contact. Steve looked just as angry as he did. James did not know what he was expecting, but he certainly had not thought that Steve might actually be offended by his response, "Do I look like the kind of guy that keeps people waiting, Buck? You have to tell me things or I won't know. I can't read minds. I'm not asking you to remember everything: I just want to know how you see me right now. What are we?"

_The right partner_

Something clicked in James's mind, and he realised what Steve had been trying to say. _From those words spoken so long ago._ In his own fears, James had neglected the obvious signs: The uncertainty in Steve's eyes; the hesitant movements; the self consciousness as James had removed his trousers: He had been reading it all wrong. Steve had a very different way of showing it, but in his own way, he was afraid of rejection too. The man who had grown up wanting nothing more than to defend his country, and after retiring from service, start a wholesome family who loved him: He wanted a relationship, and he was afraid that James did not share the same vision.

James breathed in the cool night air, and felt himself calming down,

"Steve, I may not remember all of you, but _I know you_. I may not remember the details of conversations or situations, but I don't need to. My eyes remember the curve of your jaw; my ears remember the sound of your voice, and all of me remembers hurting when I thought I'd never get a chance to be with you." Steve felt his heart lurch, and his breathing cut short. He searched James's face and found raw pain.

The next moment Steve was crushing James's lips with his, pulling him into a tight embrace. He need not have worried about knowing what to do, because his conscious mind had no part in what he was doing now. Steve ran his hands over the rippling muscle of James's chest, and found himself moving lower, pressing his mouth over the soldier's nipple, and sucking it between his teeth. James moaned at first with his mouth closed, then gasped as one quick bite after another sent waves of pleasure and pain through his chest, all the way down to his erection.

James reached down as Steve kissed him feverishly, and clasped his hand around the shaft of Steve's cock. He massaged the muscle, and teased the tip with his thumb, eliciting a moan out of Steve. As James began pumping his hand up and down, Steve felt a pressure building up inside him. James drew Steve toward him by the jaw, holding him in his metal hand. He sped up his other hand, noting how Steve's breathing was hard and heavy again now. Steve let out a whimper as he trembled, James's hand working him toward a climax. Steve's hands clenched tightly around James's back.

"_Mhnn_, Steve." James breathed into his ear, his voice lower than ever. Steve was certain his ears and cheeks were flushed red, as James whispered, "_I'm going to teach you how to be a soldier in the bedroom._" The next moment, Steve felt intense waves of pleasure ripple through him, as he ejaculated over James's bare chest. He moaned and shuddered until the pleasure subsided, and he was left completely breathless.

Steve looked up at James with lustful eyes, his lashes lowered, and his mouth parted ever so slightly. There was more than lust there though, and James could see the other kind of desire there: Steve wanted all of him, and tonight would only be the first of many nights together like this. Steve leaned in to kiss him, pressing their lips together softly at first, before he grabbed him by the waistband of his trousers, and walked them into the bedroom.


End file.
